Seduction:Her British Stepbrother(8)

"Here now, Tristan, don't be eating those!" Mrs. George turned away from  the ovens where she was putting in a dish that smelled of heavenly  spices.

With a wicked laugh, Tristan tugged the cookie plate closer and snatched up a few, handing them over to Kat.

"Quick, lick them before Mrs. George can take them back!"                       
       
           



       

Laughing, Kat shook her head. "I'm not licking them. We're not five  years old." But she did raise one Christmas tree – shaped cookie coated in  green frosting to her mouth and took a bite.

The plump cook smiled indulgently at them and rolled her eyes.

"Did you get all my presents for the staff wrapped, Mrs. George?"  Tristan asked as he leaned back against the counter. With a subtle  little move, he pulled Kat against his side so their bodies connected  hip to hip. His scent tickled Kat's nose and heat rushed to her cheeks.

It was so easy to pretend that this was natural, that they were a  couple, enjoying a Christmas in the kitchen, eating cookies, sharing  smiles, excited about being alone together later. A fierce ache rose up  inside her like a howling wind, filling her with despair. This wasn't to  be; it was an impossible fantasy, and she shouldn't let herself even  pretend that life could be this wonderful. The ghosts of their pain in  the library were momentarily banished as she let herself pretend she  could have this wonderful dream.

"I did get them wrapped! Thank you, Tristan. The maids will love their  new fur-lined gloves." The cook grinned. "And of course, I had a peek at  mine. You shouldn't have bought that knitting set."

"Nonsense, Mrs. George. How am I to get a new scarf every year if you  don't have the tools to make one?" He winked at the cook, who just  laughed.

"Off with you now, and don't let your mother see you eating my cookies."

Tristan curled his arm around Kat's hips as he led her out of the  kitchen. Kat didn't protest or try to move his hand, even though she  knew she shouldn't let him touch her like that. It was a risk. They  could be seen … but she wanted that contact badly enough to risk it.

She and Tristan were almost behaving normally, not like two people who  wanted desperately to sleep together but couldn't. It should've been a  relief, but instead a hollowness was steadily growing inside her chest.

"Is it normal for someone like your mom to have servants?" Kat asked Tristan. "I mean, she isn't married to an earl anymore … "

Several gold frames covered the walls of the main hall, the art within  depicting men and women from different eras, posing for the artists. Kat  couldn't help but admire that-having one's ancestors captured in oil  paintings. She and her father only had a few grainy snapshots of  great-grandparents in front of log cabins.

"Mum needs them to help out, and most women of her status have a couple  of servants. At my father's estate the staff is three times as large. He  doesn't need them all, but he's rather traditional," Tristan explained.

"Oh." She followed him as they entered the dining hall.

Three tall windows let evening sun in, warming the walnut of the  dining-room table. A glass chandelier above the table glittered, casting  sparkles of light against the walls. Kat noticed the pale green walls,  which had tree branches and vines with blooming flowers painted on them.  If she ignored the snow outside, she could pretend she was in a forest.

"Oh, it's beautiful." She sighed.

Tristan's lips twitched, but the expression was fleeting. "I'm glad it meets with your approval."

"Tristan … "

Before she could say anything else, their parents strolled in, arm in  arm, laughing and smiling. At the sight of their kids, they dropped  their arms.

"Hey honey, did you get a chance to see the rest of the house?" Her dad  grinned and walked over to her, trapping her in a strong hug.

Kat nodded and with a little nervous flutter she spoke to Lizzy. "Your house is beautiful."

A blush stained Lizzy's cheeks, and she smiled shyly. "Thank you. I want you to feel at home here."

Lizzy's genuine heartfelt response warmed Kat inside.

"I hope Tristan told you some of the history of the house?" Lizzy said  as she gestured for everyone to sit. They picked the far end of the  large table, making dining more intimate.

"Yes, he did." Kat tensed as Tristan placed a hand on her lower back and  guided her to a chair across from his mother. That single touch, so  intimate, so familiar, sent little shivers through her body and burned  her skin with memories of the other times he'd touched her. She already  knew with a sinking heart that she was going to miss being with Tristan.  And not just physically. The way she felt around him, like anything was  possible, and she could go out and take risks-all of that might vanish,  too. And she didn't want it to.





Chapter 5



Kat glanced at Tristan as he pulled her chair out for her and then  scooted it in when she sat down. Tristan's expression was contemplative,  but his eyes betrayed nothing of his thoughts.                       
       
           



       

Her father sat down next to Lizzy, and Tristan chose the seat next to  Kat. His chair was too close to hers, but neither of their parents  seemed to notice. Their knees were almost touching, and she wanted that  contact so badly; her whole body silently begged her, with little sparks  and flashes of heat, to get even closer to him so he could set her  ablaze.

Have to stay in control. Can't let him know how much I want to touch  him, to rub my cheek on his shoulder and breathe in his scent. Tristan  was addictive, but she couldn't let herself take another hit. Forcing  her thoughts away from Tristan-not that she was entirely successful-she  turned her attention back to their parents.

It was almost comical, the adults facing their kids across the table.  But there was no way she could laugh right now. Not when Tristan's leg  was pressing against hers from knee to hip. Heat emanated from her leg  where it touched his, and yet she couldn't bear to move away.

It was impossible for her to deny herself these small touches.

Sometimes a girl can't help herself …

So she kept her leg where it was but didn't dare look his way.

"So … " her father said, breaking the awkward silence. "What's on the menu  for tonight?" He caught Kat's eye and patted his stomach. "I've gotten  spoiled by Mrs. George." Despite his words, Kat could tell he was still  healthy and fit.

"Well." Lizzy clasped her hands together. "Mrs. George wanted an Indian  theme night after Clayton said you both liked Indian food. Tikka masala  and kedgeree are on the menu, as well as spiced beef tongue."

Beef tongue? Kat did love Indian food, but she drew the line at tongues of animals.

"Sounds … great," she said, swallowing down the urge to gag. Ugh. This was going to be a nightmare.

As the footman brought in plates of tikka masala and a basket of naan  bread, Kat decided she'd fill up on these items first and see if she  could avoid the tongue.

"Lizzy, I thought we might go to a concert on New Year's Eve. The London  Symphony has a wonderful Chopin arrangement planned," her father  suggested.

"What a wonderful idea," Lizzy replied, passing the naan basket toward her and Tristan

Kat lost track of what they were saying when Tristan put an arm around  the back of her chair. Then he lazily leaned forward to hook a finger  around the edge of the basket of naan, dragging it closer to them.

"You don't have to eat everything, you know," he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.

"What?" she muttered, hating that she had to lean closer to him to do  it. That intoxicating Tristan scent enveloped her and made her a little  dizzy.

"The tongue. You went white as ash when Mum mentioned it. You don't have  to eat it." He nudged the naan in front of her and waited patiently for  her to collect two pieces and set them on her plate. Then he took some  for himself and pushed the basket toward their parents. As he did this,  he removed his arm from her chair and brushed his hand against her arm,  then her hip as he lowered it back beneath the table. It took everything  inside her to keep from jerking as her body responded to the electric  tingles from that contact.

"Kat." Lizzy caught her attention. "Your father tells me you love history?"

Kat scooted forward in her chair and nodded, relieved to have someone to  talk to besides Tristan and a safe topic with which to distract  herself. "Yes, I'm getting my degree in it."

"That's wonderful! What do you see yourself doing after you finish your  program?" Lizzy sipped her wine and leaned toward the table.